


forget-me-not

by Nygmatech (orphan_account)



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, abuse of the amnesia potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Nygmatech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've had this dream before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forget-me-not

forget-me-not

_Nightmares again, Daniel?_

You can feel the dip next to you where Alexander settles himself onto the down mattress with a long sigh. You can feel the soft slide of Alexander’s silk dressing gown against your bare legs, can feel Alexander’s long fingers carding through your hair, working through the knots. It would be almost therapeutic, if this weren’t _Alexander._

_Don’t worry, Daniel, we’ll get rid of those in no time._

His breath soft against your ear, and you can feel the imprint of Alexander’s cruel little smile as it trails down your jaw. _Alexander, please—_

He kisses you, then. You grip his shoulders hard enough to hurt, and he licks his way into your mouth, methodically. You think you could get drunk off of Alexander’s taste, heavy and sweet like the Damascus rose. It makes you feel hot and lethargic and itches under the skin. You close your eyes and fall, fall, fall.

\--

When you wake up, alone and several hours later, you have the distinct impression that there should be someone else here, but can’t quite remember why.

\--

_Did you sleep well, Daniel?_

_Yes, thank you, Alexander._

_You seem troubled._

_I feel as if I’ve just had the most wonderful dream, only when I awoke it had slipped through my fingers._

\--

_Having difficulties sleeping?_ Alexander’s voice is almost _teasing_ , and you can feel your face grow hot where you’re standing, caught, in the doorway. You aren’t sure why you came here of all places, why you chose _Alexander_ for solace from your might terrors. Perhaps it’s only that you need the company—perhaps it’s something else, a little itch under your skin and a voice in the back of your mind telling you that you need him.

_Yes, I—I didn’t mean to wake you._

He smiles, black ink shadows cast across his face, and for a moment, Alexander looks _monstrous_ , as if he hasn’t eaten in days and he’s eyeing you as if he’s like to devour you whole. Or throw you over the bed and—

_No harm done, I’m awake now. Shall I draw you a hot bath? I find that always calms my nerves when I can’t sleep._

\--

You sink into the water, almost hot enough to burn, but then there’s the soft click of the door opening and shutting again, a pair of hands gently massaging your shoulders, and Alexander’s whispered voice in your ear,

_Just sit back, Daniel. Let me help you relax._

The bath is rose-scented, you note clinically.

\--

_Some tea, to help you sleep_ , Alexander says one night, looking about ready to retire himself, clad only in his dressing gown, and he lays the silver tea tray delicately down on your desk, flashing you a smile. _I know your nightmares have been acting up again._

You wonder, vaguely, why the particular rose flavor of the tea seems so familiar.

Why your first kiss, as he presses his mouth against yours, doesn’t feel like one at all.

Because you know the feel of his slightly chapped lips, the smooth enamel of his teeth, the way his mouth tastes like the pinkish tea from before. The motions are all too familiar and you fall into them as if an old habit, as if your… unfortunate laudanum addiction.

And when he leads you to his bed, this too, is familiar. The way he—remembers to keep the candles lit, how he knows exactly where to touch, seems to have memorized the landscape of your body, knows you better than yourself.

How somehow, you have muscle memory of where to touch _him_ , too. The way you know exactly what position to fall into—how you instinctively know how to face him and hook your legs over his shoulders, instead of rolling over onto your stomach like you always thought it would work.

How the… the press of his fingers, inside, isn’t foreign like it should be, something that it takes little effort to relax into and become comfortable with. You know how to push against him, too.

\--

_Shh_ , Alexander insists, and in the dark of the room you almost believe him. _It’s only another dream, Daniel._

But this isn’t one of your nightmares, because you feel hot and bothered, and you haven’t had any other _kind_ of dream since Africa.

_I’ll just take care of this, shall I?_ Alexander whispers, and it isn’t a suggestion, as his long fingers toy with the hem of your nightshirt, sliding up the smooth skin of your thigh. _It will help you sleep_.

\--

But you forget that, too, your mind like sand in a sieve.

\--

_Daniel, are you feeling quite alright? Perhaps, you need to be escorted to bed early—_

_No._

_Pardon?_

_Is it so difficult to think that perhaps I, too, would like to remember? I have consented thus far, have I not? Have you such a low expectations of me, Alexander?_

_You know not what you say. Cease this at once—_

_I may not remember, Alexander, but my body does._

_\--_

_This time,_ you say. _This time, I choose to forget_.

The amnesia potion coats your mouth and throat, sickly sweet and lingering at the back of your tongue, and you remember just enough to think, that it tastes like Alexander.


End file.
